Weevil parks his bike in the parking lot of Java the Hut next to a fancy black Audi, absently running through all of the different ways that he could get past the security system and into the car if he really wanted to. Sometimes he wishes he didn't need to know how, but mostly he's grateful for the extra money it occasionally brings him, especially around Christmas, or the beginning of the new school year when his nephews and nieces need new school supplies.
He heads down the staircase of the coffee shop, trying to figure out what the hell he was doing here in the first place. When he agreed to pick up Silvia for his abuela, he should have asked her where Silvia was first. He isn't sure what his cousin is thinking, getting involved with some rich white fuck. Weevil could have told her it was all just bullshit; that this guy thought he was badass by slumming it with the local riff raff. Whatever. He just wants to find her and get the hell outta here.
Walking down the last few steps, Weevil is suddenly jostled by some guy in a brown jacket, walking like he's had a few too many. A girl on the other side of the stairs is rubbing her leg. Asshole knocked into her too, and didn't even apologize. He catches a quick look at the guy's face, and shakes his head. At the same time, Weevil notices Veronica standing a few feet inside the door.
"Hey! Manners, Opie!" Weevil shouts back at Logan, who has escaped up the stairs. He continues over to Veronica. "What, did he lose a puka shell?"
Veronica looks after Logan, her face a mixture of compassion and concern. Weevil can't help wondering how she can look at Logan like that after the year that he's put her through. Some chicks are just crazy. He can tell when his words register in her mind, because her expression hardens. "No. Just the last ounce of hope that his mother was still alive."
Well, fuck. Obviously he'd heard about Lynn Echolls' swan dive off the Coronado Bridge. He may not be the kind of person to follow the stories in the gossip rags, but his abuela had been devastated when she'd heard the news about her former employer. Even though the dad was apparently a fucking psycho, his abuela had always liked the mother and had worked late more than once to take care of her and Opie when Mrs. Echolls got a little too far into the bottle. The lady was pretty generous too, surprisingly. As much as he resents the idea of owing someone else for taking care of his family, he can't deny that the regular bonuses she gave her staff helped take the pressure off of him. Weevil ignores the fact that his abuela once told him that she felt dirty accepting what she considered hush money. When he'd tried to push her into telling him what she was talking about, all she would say was that he wasn't the only one who had to do whatever it took for them to keep food on the table.
Weevil feels a little ashamed for his dismissive words about Logan. He'd been there too, after all. He remembers what it felt like to walk into his house one day after school, eight years old, to find his own mother in the bathtub, her wrists dripping blood into the water. How he'd spent night after night wishing that she would come back.
He glances back over his shoulder at the now empty staircase. Nobody deserved that, not even spoiled rich white kids who annoyed the shit out of him.
Weevil sees Veronica across the quad talking to that chick who got knocked up by that History teacher. "Yo, V. You might want to talk to this freshman. He's the one who's been shooting his mouth off about Logan's mom."
Veronica looks at the kid, one eyebrow raised. "Hope you don't mind telling that story one more time." The kid stammers out that he has a DVD that she needs to see. She wheels around and pulls out her phone, motioning for them to follow. She taps out a quick message as she leads them through the halls into the computer lab.
Moments after she sits down in front of a computer, Logan walks into the room.
"Hey. You paged?"
Logan looks around the room, a bored mask in place, but Weevil can tell that he's mildly curious underneath the disdain. He walks over.
Veronica looks at Logan, her face businesslike but with an edge of softness. "It seems Hart here has something to show us." She fixes Hart with a fierce gaze. "Spill."
Hart tries to sound cool in the face of Veronica's order. "Me and my friends were filming out by the bay. We were making this war movie, Storm on the Beach. It's just on high def, but it's pretty cool. It's these two brothers who get sent to war and-"
Veronica can barely hide her contempt, and snaps, "Don't care. Point."
Hart clearly knows of Veronica's reputation and tries not to piss her off any more than he already has, hurrying to finish his story so that he can get the hell out of there. "We were editing it together, and we noticed something." He puts a DVD into the computer and hits a few buttons on the keyboard. The world's cheesiest war movie plays for a minute or so. "Did you see it?"
"Yeah, it sucks, and?" Logan responds, just about out of patience.
Veronica tersely orders Hart to start it again, and they watch a repeat of the scene.
Just before they get to the end, Hart points out the clue that had escaped them all the first time. "There! Check out the right side of the bridge." Something is falling through the air, landing with a splash in the water.
Weevil is stunned. He's no naïve farm boy fresh off the bus to the big city and searching for a dream. He's been around; seen some things he can't unsee, done some things no one should ever witness, but this is… not the same thing. "Holy..."
He can't believe what he's watching, what Logan has been forced to watch. Sure, he hates the guy. He's a dipshit, arrogant fuck. But even dipshit, arrogant fucks shouldn't have to see their mothers kill themselves. Suddenly, Weevil is that eight year old boy again, feeling the same emotions he felt when he found his mom. Weevil refocuses on the conversation, which had been going on without him, just in time to hear Veronica's threat.
"This footage better never make it out into public consumption."
He doesn't know what makes him do it. He certainly doesn't owe anything to Opie. But maybe he does owe Mrs. Echolls something. She did send him those toys that first Christmas after his mom was gone.
"Don't worry about my boy, Hart." Weevil grabs Hart by the neck. The kid is shaking in his canvas shoes he's so scared. "He knows if that happens, his last movie will be a snuff film. And he'll star in it, right? Come on."
Glancing sympathetically one last time at Logan, glad to finally be able to consider his debt to Mrs. Echolls repaid, he drags the kid from the room.
Weevil doesn't owe anybody anything.