Theory of Convergence: Veronica Mars: V/L
Title: Theory of Convergence
Chapter: [7] Certain Things Have Come To Light - Part 1
Author: tlace
Pairing/Character: Veronica/Logan, Veronica/Duncan, Logan/Lilly, with appearances by, pretty much, every Marsverse character ever
Word Count: 5800
Rating: R
Summary: WIP begins pre-series, Veronica’s birthday is the jumping off point. Veronica and Logan are left behind when the Kane kids unexpectedly leave for the summer
Spoilers: Season 1
Warnings: Each part will have its own rating
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of Veronica Mars. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: A million fangirl thanks to Heather ( heather13 ) & Roz ( afrocurl ) & Alli ( seluciav) for the beta!
This chapter is too large for one post so it is cut in two. ( one & two)
“You've never seen The Big Lebowski?” Logan asks, pacing his room, running his hand through his hair as he talks to Veronica on his cell, “What sort of boyfriend is Duncan anyway?”
“The sort of boyfriend who doesn't force me to watch guy movies,” she responds, her tone playfully sarcastic.
“The Big Lebowski is not a guy movie. The Big Lebowski is a funny movie, a quotable movie, one which will change your life.”
“I didn’t realize that watching Jeff Bridges be grimy would be a life-changer.”
“Okay. That's it. My parents won’t be home until tomorrow, you're coming over and we're watching it together.”
***
There’s a cool, brittle feeling to the air as the sky slowly begins filling with clouds, the increasing wind sending grass clippings from the Echolls’ freshly shorn lawn in sporadic swirls across the driveway, whipping the side of the LeBaron where Veronica has been sitting - for how long she doesn’t know - hands clutching the steering wheel, eyes steeled, her heart lodged firmly in her throat as she stares at the gray Mercedes parked near the front entrance.
All day the weather has been looming, ominous and gray, a tangible pall hanging over Neptune which Veronica should have taken as an omen but, silly her, she finally allows herself to go with the flow and look what it gets her. Typical.
As soon as she pulled up the Echolls’ drive she saw the car - parked cockeyed and sloppy, the driver’s door hanging wide open, music booming from within, a pair of panties crumpled on the ground beside it - and her heart stopped.
Lilly’s come home early.
A thought that she continues to repeat in her head, as if reminding herself over and over will somehow get her used to the idea - or rub it out like a stain. Of course, this self-inflicted mental torture is ruling out any hope of moving past the initial feelings that shot through her upon seeing Lilly’s car -a sickening wave of dizziness and nausea - and has instead evolved into an increasing swell of irritation.
So she waits, parked far enough away to provide an easy escape - should she decide to bolt, she can do so without being spotted - and considers whether she should brave going in, wondering if it’s even worth it or if she’ll only find herself the unwelcome audience to passionate, back-from-Italy sex.
I should leave.
A week ago, had she come by to see her friends and realized that they were now naked and tangled, feverishly bucking away on the couch - or wherever - she’d just chalk it up to another days plans unceremoniously canceled by Lilly’s libido and head home. No harm, no foul. But today she finds herself stuck, frozen in place by disappointment and, God help her, jealousy. Emotions that she refuses to associate with Logan and wishes would just go away.
But pretense flew out the window the moment she rode up on the car, instantly realizing that everything she was expecting, looking forward to, had come to an abrupt end. Now, after reality assisting her in that revelation - the floodgates of truth seeming to have opened wide, spilling out subconscious factoids like water from a hose - not only is she aware that she’s envious and angry over Lilly being inside with Logan, but that it wasn’t until this very moment that she even considered that Duncan might be home too.
So to add to the symphony of frustration and resentment, she’s now got a throbbing pain in her head thanks to the terror of realizing she didn’t immediately turn, wheels squealing, and haul ass to the Kane’s in search of her boyfriend. Nope. Not her. She decided instead to just sit here, mildly unhinged, willing her best friend to disappear.
Something gets her moving despite the emotionally induced coma, bitter revenge she supposes, because she suddenly finds herself halfway between her car and the house, and can figure no other reason for her sub-conscious to compel her to head toward certain disaster than a fiery need to remind Logan of what he’s missing and possibly interrupt the matinee of afternoon delight so that she’s not the only one who goes home frustrated today.
Surprised by this sudden, evil desire to temporarily ruin Lilly’s plans, and desperate to mask her unexpected rush of emotions, Veronica shakes off the furrow in her brow and plasters on a smile, pretending she has no cares in the world, that this day is no different than any other - persuading herself to believe that she’s okay with once again being the utterly unnecessary and ignored third wheel.
Before getting to the door she stops to regroup, preparing her retinas for what she can only imagine will be a blur of sweaty, bouncing body parts and going over in her mind all the logical reasons for her being here, fine-tuning the explanation she’ll give Lilly for hanging out with Logan - that being the Kane’s disappearance and not any sort of “feelings” either of them has - she runs through it a few times, convincing herself that it’s true so that when the words slip past her lips they don’t feel like a lie.
With that a pang of sadness hits her; she’s never had to choose her words with Lilly. Their whole lives they’ve both been completely honest with each other. But things are suddenly so different, after spending mere days with Logan, she feels as though she’s lost all control. She’s now faced with this need to defend her actions, to explain things to her best friend and to think about how and what to say, which only proves the thing that she doesn’t want to admit. That Logan has become so much more to her than simply an ally in the war on boredom. That she is, at this moment, shaking and on the verge of tears because what she really wants more than anything is to spend the evening curled on the couch, watching a ridiculous movie with him… alone.
But everything is back to normal.
As though needing proof of this return to normalcy - and the things she finds herself wanting no longer possible - she continues on, head down, fists clenched focused on getting through this, surviving the moment.
So focused on it that it’s only when she walks through the door and hears Trina’s voice that she realizes that the Mercedes in the driveway is a different model from Lilly’s, that the tiny sticker on the bumper is the logo of a car-rental agency, that Lilly wouldn’t be caught dead listening to whatever is belching from the speakers - facts that send a welcome charge of relief shooting straight down from her head to the tips of her toes and back.
The surge of adrenaline rushing through her makes her woozy so Veronica stands in the foyer for a moment, holding the wall, giving her head time to stop swimming and her heart-rate to return to something resembling normal… and allowing herself to enjoy the elation that washes over her.
***
Leaning against the patio door Logan stares towards the pool, arms crossed, trying to ignore his sister - who is still prattling on about superficial Hollywood crap - while he considers calling Veronica’s cell, figuring she must be tied-up since she said she’d be here twenty minutes ago and she’s rarely late.
But somewhere amidst talk of gifting suites and starlets in rehab he hears Trina say something about doing things for herself or being “independent” - he’s not sure exactly since he only caught a word or two - which strikes him as hilarious, so he decides instead to wile away the time waiting for Veronica to arrive by ridiculing his sister.
“Wow. Three whole weeks away from the loving, supportive arms of dad’s wallet… I’d have to consult my notes but that may just be a personal best,” he snaps, turning to look at Trina who is emoting into her compact, admiring her own reflection.
“At least I have a job,” she retorts, clapping the compact shut and dropping it into her enormous purse.
“Don’t you have to get paid for that to be true?” Logan baits her, happy to have something - even if it is his sister - to occupy him and keep his mind off Veronica’s absence.
“Oh and what exactly is your contribution to society? Slacking? Perfecting the slack? Because while you’ve been lounging around all summer, frittering away your grossly undeserved and disproportionate ‘allowance’,” she chides, “I’ve been on set in Barstow.”
“But security found you hiding in craft services and sent you packing?”
“They’re only filming scenery shots the next couple of days, so I thought I’d take the opportunity to reconnect with my family,” she sasses.
“Which explains why you’ve come stumbling back home with four baskets of laundry, none of which are yours.”
“Like I said, it’s an independent feature with a miniscule budget, I’m just helping out the cause; they’re talking assistant producer credit,” she says excitedly at the prospect.
“We both know you can’t identify the washer much less make it work, so let’s skip the part where you try to convince me that you intended to do all this laundry yourself… but something suddenly came up,” Logan challenges, taking in a dramatic breath before continuing, “and just get to the part where I tell you that I sent the maids home.”
“Since when do you have the authority to let the help knock-off early?” she huffs.
“Since mom and dad are gone and the place is fucking spotless. We need a full-time domestic staff like you need… another pair of shoes,” he mutters.
“That was far less biting than usual, little brother. Not one mention of STDs or my lack of virtue… under the weather?” Trina asks with a tone of faux-concern, placing the back of her hand gently to Logan’s brow.
“I’m fine,” he grumbles, swatting her hand away. “Just busy.”
“Preoccupied seems more accurate,” Trina observes, her heels clicking on the marble as she circles the kitchen taking inventory, “Hmm, hors d'oeuvres, drinks… and is that home-made pizza I smell? I’m gonna take a stab here and say that that skeeze you call a girlfriend is coming over to lead you around by the balls.”
“And I’m gonna say you need to get out of my way,” Logan instructs, breezing past Trina on his way to the cupboard, suddenly aggravated with his inherent, ceaseless need to start things.
“You are definitely not firing on all cylinders,” she says, sampling some dip with her finger, seeming to approve. “You did, however, pay very close attention on Chipotle Bean Dip Day - surprisingly tasty,” she compliments, her voice laced with surprise, “but was it necessary to make every dish Letty ever taught us? Kind of excessive for someone whose interest in you is erratic and completely dependent on her mood.”
“I’ll pass on getting relationship advice from someone whose only pre-requisite is that her dates walk upright...” he says, as he sets out a couple of plates and glasses, “although; judging by your latest sugar daddy, I’d say ‘rolls’ is more accurate. How old is gramps anyway?”
“Was,” she sighs, affecting mild grief, “Poor thing. Bad ticker. And say what you will, at least I know when a relationship is over.”
“Oh yes, I’ll remember that, ‘when geriatric lover goes face down in bowl of tapioca consider yourself dumped.’ I’ll bet that’s the first thing they teach you at The Anna Nicole Academy for Gold Digging Tramps.”
“How To Get the Least Bang for His Buck is actually the first, the tapioca thing isn’t until much later,” she counters, waving off him off and checking her watch, “I’d love to continue this little tête-à-derrière but I’m meeting people for drinks.”
“Don’t you need to have people first?”
Rolling her eyes, Trina ignores his comment, “Tell Letty I’ll pick the laundry up tomorrow night,” she chirps, turning to head for the door.
It’s then that Logan notices Veronica standing in the threshold leading in from the foyer. At the sight of her every nerve ending in his body relaxes. He’s calm as he stares at her, forgetting almost instantly his verbal sparring match with Trina and concentrating on the fact that Veronica’s chest is heaving and shuddering, as though she’s nervous or upset, despite her face being illuminated in a smile.
“Uh, hey,” she chokes, “I knocked but…” Her voice, unsteady and low, trails off.
He walks over and looks down into her eyes, brushing his hand down her arm, “You all right?”
Veronica nods, not looking at him directly.
“Oh my God! Is that Veronica Mars?” Trina shouts as she turns on her heel and heads back toward the kitchen, “Well, this is an interesting development.”
“There’s no development,” Logan assures, stepping between them and trying to corral Trina out, “I thought you had places to be.”
“I do, but I always have time to catch up with old friends,” Trina insists, wiggling free of Logan’s grip and stepping around him to greet Veronica. “How are you?” she squeals, hugging Veronica who simply pats her on the back, “I’m only in town for a day or two, have to do a little schmoozing, comes with the territory. You know, being famous and all,” she clarifies, hand to her mouth as if sharing a big secret. “So. What is it that brings you by our quaint domicile?”
“A movie,” Veronica answers self-consciously, giving Logan a look. “We’re watching a movie.”
“Well, that’s a coincidence, I’ve been making a movie,” she condescends.
“That is… awesome, for you,” Veronica offers, seeming to want to be polite in spite of Trina’s penchant for making people truly uncomfortable.
“Isn’t it? We should totally get together while I’m home, I can fill you in on all the deliciously, sordid behind-the-scenes stuff and you can…”
“Listen?” Logan interrupts.
“Was I talking to you, bro’?” Trina scoffs, keeping her attention on Veronica.
“Sure, maybe, you know if I have time,” Veronica mutters.
“Fabulous, I can’t wait!” she declares, giving Veronica a quick squeeze. “So, looks like you’re here by yourself,” she alludes, peering over Veronica to look down the hall, “where’s Lilly?”
“Oh, uh, Lilly’s in Italy.”
“That so?” Trina spins around to look at Logan. “Funny you didn’t mention that when we were chatting before.”
“Well, you know how I hate to interrupt when you’re filling me in on the lives of people you don’t even know.”
“Mm-hmm,” she responds, her tone incredulous.
“Didn’t you say you were going out?” he asks and, before she can answer, loops his arm around her shoulder, ushering her towards the door.
“I suppose you’re right,” she concedes, “but you and me, we need to talk.”
“That’s unlikely,” he mutters under his breath. “Now get,” he demands, feigning playful affection, “before your friends start missing you.”
“Okay, fine. Ciao, Veronica, sei bellisima darling! Call me,” she shouts back as Logan guides her gently out of the room.
When he returns Veronica is still standing where she was when he left, “Sorry about that,” he apologizes, gesturing back toward the door, “Trina just likes to make her presence known.”
“Yeah, I, um, wasn’t really expecting to see her,” Veronica exhales.
“Me either,” Logan agrees, as his lips curl in to a smile, glad to be rid of his sister. “You are allowed to come all the way into the kitchen you know?” he hints, motioning Veronica in with a wave of his arm.
Nodding at his suggestion, Veronica slips past him into the kitchen and her eyes immediately fall on the island, her gaze passing over the extensive buffet, “Wow.”
“I went a little overboard,” Logan explains, as he makes his way over to the oven, “you are not required to eat any of it. Well, except the pizza. You have to at least try it since I whipped up something extra special,” he says as he pulls the pizza from the oven and presents it to her, “I call it ‘The Veronica’.”
Appearing shocked, Veronica’s mouth drops open and her eyes go wide, “Oh Logan, it looks delicious. And artichokes! I love artichokes!” she exclaims. “You knew that?”
“I pay attention,” Logan confides.
“That you do,” she grants, holding his gaze for a second before reaching for a piece and taking a bite. Allowing herself a moment, and seeming to genuinely consider the flavor, she gives him her approval with a thumbs-up.
“Good?” he asks.
“Mm-hmm,” she mumbles through a mouthful.
“While the pizza may be extraordinary, I have to warn you that I have no idea if the rest of this is even edible,” Logan admits, gesturing toward the counter of food, “Letty made many heroic attempts at showing me and Trina how to cook for ourselves, seeing as our parents are always elsewhere, but the pizza recipe is the only thing that stuck.”
“Well, it’s awesome. Really. Thank you.”
“Glad you like it,” he says, proudly.
“Now it’s my turn,” she announces, reaching down next to her to pick up a bag, “I did a little research and according to this website called Lebowski Fest dot com there’s actually a costume requirement for our viewing this evening. So this,” she says, handing him an old bathrobe, “is for you and this is for me,” she finishes, pulling a Viking helmet from her bag and plopping it on her head. “Would you believe I actually had these lying around the house?”
Between the goofy horns and the expression on her face, Veronica looks so fucking cute Logan wants nothing more than to scoop her up and kiss her, every inch of him humming he fights the urge, grinning like an idiot instead.
“Thanks” he says, slipping on the robe and doing a little turn, “what do you think?”
“What I know, is that this ratty thing is my dad’s and the stain on the pocket is gravy,” she discloses, “but rest assured, I did in fact wash it before bringing it over.”
“So you’re saying that Sheriff Mars, the constant and loyal protector of our fair town, wears this around the house?” he asks, pulling at the tattered collar, “I have a new view of him suddenly.”
“You do realize that if you say anything about this, you will be banished from Chez Mars forever, right?”
He mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key and Veronica responds with a grateful smile.
“So,” he begins, clapping his hands and rubbing them together, “Ladies choice, we can either watch the movie here or use my dad’s screening room.”
“How did I not know that you have a screening room?” she asks, brow furrowed.
“Possibly because no one is allowed to use it,” Logan suggests. “And make no mistake it is not just any screening room,” he admonishes, spinning around, his arms spread wide for dramatic effect, “this is an exact replica of the theater in Aaron Echolls’ hometown, where our chisel-jawed protagonist sat every Saturday during his youth, dreaming of moving to Tinseltown and being in the pictures,” Logan finishes with a wink. “It even has a concession stand.”
“Well, while that sounds really interesting, and mildly narcissistic, I was sort of looking forward to just vegging out on the couch,” she says. “Would that be cool?”
“I can think of nothing cooler.”
***
Go to Part 2
Chapter: [7] Certain Things Have Come To Light - Part 1
Author: tlace
Pairing/Character: Veronica/Logan, Veronica/Duncan, Logan/Lilly, with appearances by, pretty much, every Marsverse character ever
Word Count: 5800
Rating: R
Summary: WIP begins pre-series, Veronica’s birthday is the jumping off point. Veronica and Logan are left behind when the Kane kids unexpectedly leave for the summer
Spoilers: Season 1
Warnings: Each part will have its own rating
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of Veronica Mars. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: A million fangirl thanks to Heather ( heather13 ) & Roz ( afrocurl ) & Alli ( seluciav) for the beta!
This chapter is too large for one post so it is cut in two. ( one & two)
“You've never seen The Big Lebowski?” Logan asks, pacing his room, running his hand through his hair as he talks to Veronica on his cell, “What sort of boyfriend is Duncan anyway?”
“The sort of boyfriend who doesn't force me to watch guy movies,” she responds, her tone playfully sarcastic.
“The Big Lebowski is not a guy movie. The Big Lebowski is a funny movie, a quotable movie, one which will change your life.”
“I didn’t realize that watching Jeff Bridges be grimy would be a life-changer.”
“Okay. That's it. My parents won’t be home until tomorrow, you're coming over and we're watching it together.”
***
There’s a cool, brittle feeling to the air as the sky slowly begins filling with clouds, the increasing wind sending grass clippings from the Echolls’ freshly shorn lawn in sporadic swirls across the driveway, whipping the side of the LeBaron where Veronica has been sitting - for how long she doesn’t know - hands clutching the steering wheel, eyes steeled, her heart lodged firmly in her throat as she stares at the gray Mercedes parked near the front entrance.
All day the weather has been looming, ominous and gray, a tangible pall hanging over Neptune which Veronica should have taken as an omen but, silly her, she finally allows herself to go with the flow and look what it gets her. Typical.
As soon as she pulled up the Echolls’ drive she saw the car - parked cockeyed and sloppy, the driver’s door hanging wide open, music booming from within, a pair of panties crumpled on the ground beside it - and her heart stopped.
Lilly’s come home early.
A thought that she continues to repeat in her head, as if reminding herself over and over will somehow get her used to the idea - or rub it out like a stain. Of course, this self-inflicted mental torture is ruling out any hope of moving past the initial feelings that shot through her upon seeing Lilly’s car -a sickening wave of dizziness and nausea - and has instead evolved into an increasing swell of irritation.
So she waits, parked far enough away to provide an easy escape - should she decide to bolt, she can do so without being spotted - and considers whether she should brave going in, wondering if it’s even worth it or if she’ll only find herself the unwelcome audience to passionate, back-from-Italy sex.
I should leave.
A week ago, had she come by to see her friends and realized that they were now naked and tangled, feverishly bucking away on the couch - or wherever - she’d just chalk it up to another days plans unceremoniously canceled by Lilly’s libido and head home. No harm, no foul. But today she finds herself stuck, frozen in place by disappointment and, God help her, jealousy. Emotions that she refuses to associate with Logan and wishes would just go away.
But pretense flew out the window the moment she rode up on the car, instantly realizing that everything she was expecting, looking forward to, had come to an abrupt end. Now, after reality assisting her in that revelation - the floodgates of truth seeming to have opened wide, spilling out subconscious factoids like water from a hose - not only is she aware that she’s envious and angry over Lilly being inside with Logan, but that it wasn’t until this very moment that she even considered that Duncan might be home too.
So to add to the symphony of frustration and resentment, she’s now got a throbbing pain in her head thanks to the terror of realizing she didn’t immediately turn, wheels squealing, and haul ass to the Kane’s in search of her boyfriend. Nope. Not her. She decided instead to just sit here, mildly unhinged, willing her best friend to disappear.
Something gets her moving despite the emotionally induced coma, bitter revenge she supposes, because she suddenly finds herself halfway between her car and the house, and can figure no other reason for her sub-conscious to compel her to head toward certain disaster than a fiery need to remind Logan of what he’s missing and possibly interrupt the matinee of afternoon delight so that she’s not the only one who goes home frustrated today.
Surprised by this sudden, evil desire to temporarily ruin Lilly’s plans, and desperate to mask her unexpected rush of emotions, Veronica shakes off the furrow in her brow and plasters on a smile, pretending she has no cares in the world, that this day is no different than any other - persuading herself to believe that she’s okay with once again being the utterly unnecessary and ignored third wheel.
Before getting to the door she stops to regroup, preparing her retinas for what she can only imagine will be a blur of sweaty, bouncing body parts and going over in her mind all the logical reasons for her being here, fine-tuning the explanation she’ll give Lilly for hanging out with Logan - that being the Kane’s disappearance and not any sort of “feelings” either of them has - she runs through it a few times, convincing herself that it’s true so that when the words slip past her lips they don’t feel like a lie.
With that a pang of sadness hits her; she’s never had to choose her words with Lilly. Their whole lives they’ve both been completely honest with each other. But things are suddenly so different, after spending mere days with Logan, she feels as though she’s lost all control. She’s now faced with this need to defend her actions, to explain things to her best friend and to think about how and what to say, which only proves the thing that she doesn’t want to admit. That Logan has become so much more to her than simply an ally in the war on boredom. That she is, at this moment, shaking and on the verge of tears because what she really wants more than anything is to spend the evening curled on the couch, watching a ridiculous movie with him… alone.
But everything is back to normal.
As though needing proof of this return to normalcy - and the things she finds herself wanting no longer possible - she continues on, head down, fists clenched focused on getting through this, surviving the moment.
So focused on it that it’s only when she walks through the door and hears Trina’s voice that she realizes that the Mercedes in the driveway is a different model from Lilly’s, that the tiny sticker on the bumper is the logo of a car-rental agency, that Lilly wouldn’t be caught dead listening to whatever is belching from the speakers - facts that send a welcome charge of relief shooting straight down from her head to the tips of her toes and back.
The surge of adrenaline rushing through her makes her woozy so Veronica stands in the foyer for a moment, holding the wall, giving her head time to stop swimming and her heart-rate to return to something resembling normal… and allowing herself to enjoy the elation that washes over her.
***
Leaning against the patio door Logan stares towards the pool, arms crossed, trying to ignore his sister - who is still prattling on about superficial Hollywood crap - while he considers calling Veronica’s cell, figuring she must be tied-up since she said she’d be here twenty minutes ago and she’s rarely late.
But somewhere amidst talk of gifting suites and starlets in rehab he hears Trina say something about doing things for herself or being “independent” - he’s not sure exactly since he only caught a word or two - which strikes him as hilarious, so he decides instead to wile away the time waiting for Veronica to arrive by ridiculing his sister.
“Wow. Three whole weeks away from the loving, supportive arms of dad’s wallet… I’d have to consult my notes but that may just be a personal best,” he snaps, turning to look at Trina who is emoting into her compact, admiring her own reflection.
“At least I have a job,” she retorts, clapping the compact shut and dropping it into her enormous purse.
“Don’t you have to get paid for that to be true?” Logan baits her, happy to have something - even if it is his sister - to occupy him and keep his mind off Veronica’s absence.
“Oh and what exactly is your contribution to society? Slacking? Perfecting the slack? Because while you’ve been lounging around all summer, frittering away your grossly undeserved and disproportionate ‘allowance’,” she chides, “I’ve been on set in Barstow.”
“But security found you hiding in craft services and sent you packing?”
“They’re only filming scenery shots the next couple of days, so I thought I’d take the opportunity to reconnect with my family,” she sasses.
“Which explains why you’ve come stumbling back home with four baskets of laundry, none of which are yours.”
“Like I said, it’s an independent feature with a miniscule budget, I’m just helping out the cause; they’re talking assistant producer credit,” she says excitedly at the prospect.
“We both know you can’t identify the washer much less make it work, so let’s skip the part where you try to convince me that you intended to do all this laundry yourself… but something suddenly came up,” Logan challenges, taking in a dramatic breath before continuing, “and just get to the part where I tell you that I sent the maids home.”
“Since when do you have the authority to let the help knock-off early?” she huffs.
“Since mom and dad are gone and the place is fucking spotless. We need a full-time domestic staff like you need… another pair of shoes,” he mutters.
“That was far less biting than usual, little brother. Not one mention of STDs or my lack of virtue… under the weather?” Trina asks with a tone of faux-concern, placing the back of her hand gently to Logan’s brow.
“I’m fine,” he grumbles, swatting her hand away. “Just busy.”
“Preoccupied seems more accurate,” Trina observes, her heels clicking on the marble as she circles the kitchen taking inventory, “Hmm, hors d'oeuvres, drinks… and is that home-made pizza I smell? I’m gonna take a stab here and say that that skeeze you call a girlfriend is coming over to lead you around by the balls.”
“And I’m gonna say you need to get out of my way,” Logan instructs, breezing past Trina on his way to the cupboard, suddenly aggravated with his inherent, ceaseless need to start things.
“You are definitely not firing on all cylinders,” she says, sampling some dip with her finger, seeming to approve. “You did, however, pay very close attention on Chipotle Bean Dip Day - surprisingly tasty,” she compliments, her voice laced with surprise, “but was it necessary to make every dish Letty ever taught us? Kind of excessive for someone whose interest in you is erratic and completely dependent on her mood.”
“I’ll pass on getting relationship advice from someone whose only pre-requisite is that her dates walk upright...” he says, as he sets out a couple of plates and glasses, “although; judging by your latest sugar daddy, I’d say ‘rolls’ is more accurate. How old is gramps anyway?”
“Was,” she sighs, affecting mild grief, “Poor thing. Bad ticker. And say what you will, at least I know when a relationship is over.”
“Oh yes, I’ll remember that, ‘when geriatric lover goes face down in bowl of tapioca consider yourself dumped.’ I’ll bet that’s the first thing they teach you at The Anna Nicole Academy for Gold Digging Tramps.”
“How To Get the Least Bang for His Buck is actually the first, the tapioca thing isn’t until much later,” she counters, waving off him off and checking her watch, “I’d love to continue this little tête-à-derrière but I’m meeting people for drinks.”
“Don’t you need to have people first?”
Rolling her eyes, Trina ignores his comment, “Tell Letty I’ll pick the laundry up tomorrow night,” she chirps, turning to head for the door.
It’s then that Logan notices Veronica standing in the threshold leading in from the foyer. At the sight of her every nerve ending in his body relaxes. He’s calm as he stares at her, forgetting almost instantly his verbal sparring match with Trina and concentrating on the fact that Veronica’s chest is heaving and shuddering, as though she’s nervous or upset, despite her face being illuminated in a smile.
“Uh, hey,” she chokes, “I knocked but…” Her voice, unsteady and low, trails off.
He walks over and looks down into her eyes, brushing his hand down her arm, “You all right?”
Veronica nods, not looking at him directly.
“Oh my God! Is that Veronica Mars?” Trina shouts as she turns on her heel and heads back toward the kitchen, “Well, this is an interesting development.”
“There’s no development,” Logan assures, stepping between them and trying to corral Trina out, “I thought you had places to be.”
“I do, but I always have time to catch up with old friends,” Trina insists, wiggling free of Logan’s grip and stepping around him to greet Veronica. “How are you?” she squeals, hugging Veronica who simply pats her on the back, “I’m only in town for a day or two, have to do a little schmoozing, comes with the territory. You know, being famous and all,” she clarifies, hand to her mouth as if sharing a big secret. “So. What is it that brings you by our quaint domicile?”
“A movie,” Veronica answers self-consciously, giving Logan a look. “We’re watching a movie.”
“Well, that’s a coincidence, I’ve been making a movie,” she condescends.
“That is… awesome, for you,” Veronica offers, seeming to want to be polite in spite of Trina’s penchant for making people truly uncomfortable.
“Isn’t it? We should totally get together while I’m home, I can fill you in on all the deliciously, sordid behind-the-scenes stuff and you can…”
“Listen?” Logan interrupts.
“Was I talking to you, bro’?” Trina scoffs, keeping her attention on Veronica.
“Sure, maybe, you know if I have time,” Veronica mutters.
“Fabulous, I can’t wait!” she declares, giving Veronica a quick squeeze. “So, looks like you’re here by yourself,” she alludes, peering over Veronica to look down the hall, “where’s Lilly?”
“Oh, uh, Lilly’s in Italy.”
“That so?” Trina spins around to look at Logan. “Funny you didn’t mention that when we were chatting before.”
“Well, you know how I hate to interrupt when you’re filling me in on the lives of people you don’t even know.”
“Mm-hmm,” she responds, her tone incredulous.
“Didn’t you say you were going out?” he asks and, before she can answer, loops his arm around her shoulder, ushering her towards the door.
“I suppose you’re right,” she concedes, “but you and me, we need to talk.”
“That’s unlikely,” he mutters under his breath. “Now get,” he demands, feigning playful affection, “before your friends start missing you.”
“Okay, fine. Ciao, Veronica, sei bellisima darling! Call me,” she shouts back as Logan guides her gently out of the room.
When he returns Veronica is still standing where she was when he left, “Sorry about that,” he apologizes, gesturing back toward the door, “Trina just likes to make her presence known.”
“Yeah, I, um, wasn’t really expecting to see her,” Veronica exhales.
“Me either,” Logan agrees, as his lips curl in to a smile, glad to be rid of his sister. “You are allowed to come all the way into the kitchen you know?” he hints, motioning Veronica in with a wave of his arm.
Nodding at his suggestion, Veronica slips past him into the kitchen and her eyes immediately fall on the island, her gaze passing over the extensive buffet, “Wow.”
“I went a little overboard,” Logan explains, as he makes his way over to the oven, “you are not required to eat any of it. Well, except the pizza. You have to at least try it since I whipped up something extra special,” he says as he pulls the pizza from the oven and presents it to her, “I call it ‘The Veronica’.”
Appearing shocked, Veronica’s mouth drops open and her eyes go wide, “Oh Logan, it looks delicious. And artichokes! I love artichokes!” she exclaims. “You knew that?”
“I pay attention,” Logan confides.
“That you do,” she grants, holding his gaze for a second before reaching for a piece and taking a bite. Allowing herself a moment, and seeming to genuinely consider the flavor, she gives him her approval with a thumbs-up.
“Good?” he asks.
“Mm-hmm,” she mumbles through a mouthful.
“While the pizza may be extraordinary, I have to warn you that I have no idea if the rest of this is even edible,” Logan admits, gesturing toward the counter of food, “Letty made many heroic attempts at showing me and Trina how to cook for ourselves, seeing as our parents are always elsewhere, but the pizza recipe is the only thing that stuck.”
“Well, it’s awesome. Really. Thank you.”
“Glad you like it,” he says, proudly.
“Now it’s my turn,” she announces, reaching down next to her to pick up a bag, “I did a little research and according to this website called Lebowski Fest dot com there’s actually a costume requirement for our viewing this evening. So this,” she says, handing him an old bathrobe, “is for you and this is for me,” she finishes, pulling a Viking helmet from her bag and plopping it on her head. “Would you believe I actually had these lying around the house?”
Between the goofy horns and the expression on her face, Veronica looks so fucking cute Logan wants nothing more than to scoop her up and kiss her, every inch of him humming he fights the urge, grinning like an idiot instead.
“Thanks” he says, slipping on the robe and doing a little turn, “what do you think?”
“What I know, is that this ratty thing is my dad’s and the stain on the pocket is gravy,” she discloses, “but rest assured, I did in fact wash it before bringing it over.”
“So you’re saying that Sheriff Mars, the constant and loyal protector of our fair town, wears this around the house?” he asks, pulling at the tattered collar, “I have a new view of him suddenly.”
“You do realize that if you say anything about this, you will be banished from Chez Mars forever, right?”
He mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key and Veronica responds with a grateful smile.
“So,” he begins, clapping his hands and rubbing them together, “Ladies choice, we can either watch the movie here or use my dad’s screening room.”
“How did I not know that you have a screening room?” she asks, brow furrowed.
“Possibly because no one is allowed to use it,” Logan suggests. “And make no mistake it is not just any screening room,” he admonishes, spinning around, his arms spread wide for dramatic effect, “this is an exact replica of the theater in Aaron Echolls’ hometown, where our chisel-jawed protagonist sat every Saturday during his youth, dreaming of moving to Tinseltown and being in the pictures,” Logan finishes with a wink. “It even has a concession stand.”
“Well, while that sounds really interesting, and mildly narcissistic, I was sort of looking forward to just vegging out on the couch,” she says. “Would that be cool?”
“I can think of nothing cooler.”
***
Go to Part 2