It wasn't so much that she hated Veronica…

No, she did hate Veronica.

Well, not so much 'hate' as she was angry with'…

Pissed off at…

Furious-

Ah, hell, she hated her.

But really, how could she not hate the person responsible for putting her in that situation? For being the reason she saw that?

Her next favor for Veronica would be waiting for the blonde in her inbox come tomorrow morning, ready to melt the insides of her computer.

But even that wouldn't satisfy the need for retribution for what she'd been witness to.

People open doors every day to perfectly mundane things: their living room, a car, a refrigerator, an advent calendar. When a person opens a door they don't prepare themselves for eye-gouging displays. If people prepared themselves fully for horrors at every turn no one would have any stomach lining left.

But then again, not everyone walks in on Dick Casablancas in bed.

On top of someone.

A female someone.

Naked.

Engaged in what was definitely more than a clothing optional study session.

So maybe it wasn't so much that she hated Veronica, as she wanted to kill her. Perhaps it was time to go out and buy that glittery 'Porn Star' tube top. It would fit so nicely around the blonde P.I's throat.

And who would blame her? Mac couldn't be held responsible for her actions at this point.

Especially when she couldn't even fool herself in to thinking it had merely been the pre-game show. There had been definite…

Oh, EW.

"You seen Veronica?" she asked, trying her best to sound nonchalant. Piz scanned the crowd of gyrating bodies, completely unaware of the murderous plots being hatched by his rooftop companion.

"Not in a while."

Good, that would give her time to plot the ultimate revenge. The tube top idea was starting to sound pretty good. After she was done disposing of the Mars girl, she could stuff it down Dick Casablancas' throat, because she knew he'd have a lot to say.

She knew this, because he'd seen her.

-

It has all started out so innocent. Dinner, study, play 'catch a rapist'! All in good Neptune-style fun.

If only she'd stayed with Whiskey Boy instead of playing What's Behind Pi Sig Door #1. He hadn't been trying drug her or rape her. He found the fact she had an STD hilarious. So many good qualities in a man. The most important of which was the fact he was not Dick Casablancas. Or, more specifically, he wasn't Dick Casablancas getting his freak on with some random girl in the second bedroom on the right.

And he didn't smirk at her standing in the doorway, the light from the hall catching the sheen of sweat on his shoulders and illuminating all the naughty bits and movements she had no desire to see.

But hindsight is 20/20. Oh, to have a time machine. Oh, to forget the moan she heard as she closed the door and made her hasty retreat.

Oh, if only her drink was more parts alcohol and no parts memory of Dick's naked ass.

Just thinking about it made her feel dirty and antsy.

"I'll be back," Mac shook her empty soda cup, which had become quite sad-looking since its election as the outlet for her frustration. The poor red plastic had seen better days. "Time for some more co-la." Piz gave her a vague nod and continued his perusal of their drunken peers.

-

It wasn't fair. She hadn't even bought the tube top yet. The time wasn't right for this confrontation. Did everything have to go wrong all at once all the time?

Not only are you adopted, but you were switched at birth with Madison Sinclair.

Not only is your boyfriend unable to be intimate with you, he's a murderous psychopathic rapist.

Short answer: yes.

Otherwise, why would Dick Casablancas be manning the drink station when she had been trying so very hard to avoid him? She'd hid on the roof for crying out loud. Apparently all the time she'd spent up there left his just enough time to zip his pants and stride downstairs. Just in time to make her ever so uncomfortable. It also gave him enough time to perfect that egotistical smirk, not that he didn't have a monopoly on that skill from the moment the devil spawned him.

She could feel her body demanding her to turn away, and as much as she wanted to obey, it wasn't meant to be. He'd seen her again.

Damn but he had quick reflexes for someone who did his best to dull them with various substances. Not about to back down from the confrontation, and fuel his already over-ripe ego, Mac stepped up to the bar as the last partygoer left.

"Well, well, well," the blonde sneered, his head bobbing from side to side as she approached. Mac wanted to laugh, because really, could someone be more repulsive than Dick Casablancas? And it would have been funny, if she hadn't been on the receiving end.

"Hello, Dick," his name stuck on her teeth as she spat it out. Shouldn't he be off somewhere with his tongue down someone, or thing's, throat?

Dick took a deep breath, basking in the awkward. Looking down at Mac, he furrowed his eyebrows in mock concern.

"What can I get for you: a beer, mixed drink?" he motioned to the various kegs and bottles behind him. "I'm sorry, but we're fresh out of voyeuristic fantasies."

"Voyeuristic?" Mac raised her eyebrows in shock. "That must be some mighty educational porn you've been watching."

"Only the best," Dick shrugged. "But you already know that, I mean you did get a pretty good look."

Mac could have done without the pelvic-thrust-heavy dance moves Dick chose to demonstrate.

"Yes, I will treasure that moment for always," Mac ground out through a nasty smile. "No need to get me anything for Christmas, I'm all set."

"Not that I blame you for sticking around to enjoy the show," Dick spread his hands out in a fantastic display of melodramatic understanding. "We all know your history, or lack thereof, in matters of the flesh."

"I'll take a Coke," Mac cut in. Dick was courteous enough in his role as bartender to reach in to the basin of ice and cans behind him and pull out Mac's beverage as he talked about everything she knew he would bring up.

"You can't blame yourself entirely. You put yourself out there, it didn't work out. It happens. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong partner." Water dropped from his fingertips as he motioned about. Mac calmly held out her hand, waiting for the soda. "Get back in the ring and give it another go. There has to be someone out there for you," Dick winked as he wiped the excess condensation from the can absent-mindedly and passed it across the bar.

"Gee, thanks," Mac replied through clenched teeth. "Great pep talk, coach." Really, her molars would turn to dust if she had to listen to this for another moment. Dick continued to speak, so Mac popped open the top of the soda and started to pour.

"And hey, if not, there are plenty of cats in need of adoption," the blonde sucked in a quick breath. "Oh, but watch out for the smell. Lots of cats, lots of stink. That'll hurt your chances of bagging some equally sad old cat dude."

Mac waited patiently, her head tilted slightly to the left, her eye only twitching the tiniest bit, for Dick to finish his ramblings. At the close of his sentence she thanked him for his insight and promptly threw the contents of her soda in his face.

Deciding to end her night on that high note, she turned, pulled out her cell phone, and dialed Veronica's number.

-

Someone named Veronica needed to pick up their damn phone.

Mac punched the 'Send' button for the fifth time and sighed heavily as she entered voicemail hell yet again. She could call again or try another approach.

With a heavy heart and queasy stomach she turned to look up at the Pi Sig house.

"Damn it."

She had really been hoping to avoid this by waiting for Veronica outside.

"Come on, Veronica," she whispered, willing the petite blonde to magically appear on the front lawn. No such luck.

A noise that was a mixture of frustration and a call to action spewed from her mouth as Mac forced herself across the grass. She flashed her bracelet to the police officer and re-entered her own private hell. Pushing past several slow-moving drunken classmates, Mac scoured the crowd. Apparently certain party-goers didn't take kindly to being shoved and Mac soon found herself slipping on the beer-coated floor, courtesy of an elbow to the ribcage, and sliding directly into the side of Dick Casablancas.

Shocker.

"You've got to be kidding me," Mac stared in disbelief, her mouth hanging open. Dick looked equally pleased to see her. The front of his shirt was stained brown; that made Mac smile a little.

"Getting a little grabby now, are we?" The lascivious grin had made its return.

Mac's eyeballs nearly rolled completely backwards.

"Yes, I can't keep my hands off you," she sighed. "Oh baby. Oh."

The side of his mouth curled up, and if it was possible to look anymore lecherous than before, he'd accomplished it. Reaching new levels of perv-dom seemed to be Dick Casablancas' specialty. Luckily before anything too revolting could spew from his gullet, a curly haired brunette promptly latched herself on to his person.

"Where'd you go? I missed you," she whined, alcohol slurring her words. The pout pretty much made Mac want to barf, but Dick didn't seem to mind the breasts pressed against his side nor the roaming hands. "Ew, your shirt's all sticky."

Was Mac not supposed to laugh at that? Dick glared. The girl looked confused.

"I went to get drinks," Dick made a recovery, the grin sliding back in to place, and winked at his new companion. He offered up a plastic cup to the girl who proceeded to show her appreciation by trying to remove his tonsils through the power of her own breath.

Really, if Mac died at that very moment and was sent to hell, she probably wouldn't even notice.

"Have you seen Veronica?" Mac shouted. The girl looked fairly put out as she retracted her tongue from the frat boy's throat and turned a glazy stare on Mac.

"Funny shirt."

Mac was pretty sure the girl wasn't amused.

"Dick, who's your friend?"

Dick nearly choked on the sip he was taking, so Mac answered for him.

"I'm not his friend."

"She's not my friend."

The drunken gaze was back on her. Mac could practically see the hamster on its little wheel working up a storm as the tonsil-sucker processed the information. From what she could decipher in the transparent expressions she saw, the girl did not consider Mac a threat.

Well, duh.

"Whatever," she shrugged and turned back to Dick. "I'm going back upstairs. Don't be too long." A quick peck and pelvic grind and the girl was gone as quickly as she appeared.

"Charming creature," Mac commented as Dick admired the retreating figure. She reached up and snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Hey, have you seen Veronica?"

"Huh? No, not for a while."

"Thanks," Mac spit out. She turned to walk away but felt Dick's fingers wrap around her upper arm. Her eyebrows furrowed as he took a step towards her. Dick Casablancas was most definitely in her personal bubble. Mac pivoted, bringing the shoulder closest to him a step further away, but he kept hold of her arm.

"Where are you going?" he asked and Mac wished she could decipher the emotion behind the words. He must be drunker than she thought, but the question seemed completely lucid. It seemed almost innocent, and Dick Casablancas was not known for innocent

"To find Ver-o-ni-ca," her eyes wide as she sounded it out for him. This was decidedly uncomfortable.

"Oh, but Ghost World, didn't you hear?" he took a step closer, still keeping a firm grip on her bicep.

"Hear what?" Mac frowned, she hated that name and she hated how tall he was. He smiled that shit-eating grin and lowered his head, his blue eyes focused on her. Mac felt every muscle in her body lock up; she was frozen and very, very confused.

"Your favorite program is on," Dick tossed his head in the general direction of the stairs. "Follow me for the encore performance I know you're dying to see."

Mac quickly yanked her arm out of his grip and took a step back.

"You're twisted, Dick."

"That's the way you like it though, right?" he laughed and shrugged. "Why else would you want to screw my brother?"